


Empty

by kittenofdoomage



Series: Angst Appreciation Day 2017 [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Death, F/M, Hurt, Pain, Possession, Sex, Smut, Suicide, demon!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 17:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11490993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Written for Angst Appreciation Day. The reader goes missing for months, and when she finally turns up, she's not who she used to be.





	Empty

“You are my greatest creation,” Crowley purred, leaning in behind you where you stood, dressed head to toe in black. “They’ll never see you coming.” His hands were on your waist, and you didn’t move, accepting his touch without hesitation. It had been a long few decades, trapped in Hell, being tortured, twisted and trained for one purpose.

The Winchesters.

Now, you didn’t care about the horrors Crowley’s minions had visited on you in the short time you’d been there. It was an intensive programme, designed to warp your soul and make you compliant with their demands. Dean and Sam wouldn’t see you coming, because you were their friend, their ally… you were Dean’s once upon a time.

For you, it was a thousand years in the making, but for them, it had only been a couple of months. Crowley knew they’d been searching for you, but there was no finding you in the catacombs of Hell, where he’d kept you prisoner. Even the stupid angel hadn’t been able to locate you.

“Are you ready for this?” Crowley asked, moving to stand in front of you, using his fingers to tilt your chin upwards, focusing your eyes on him. “Ready to serve your king?”

“I am,” you replied, eyes flashing black.

“Good girl. You break Dean Winchester. Make it so he is no longer a threat to me.”

*****

Dean sighed, leaning over the bunker table, staring at text he wasn’t even reading. Sam was opposite, looking equally as fed up, a pen in his mouth as he tapped through reports on his laptop. “Anything?” Dean asked, raising his head.

“Nothing. No reports. Not even a fresh case for us. All's quiet on the Western front.”

“It’s been months,” Dean commented, looking back down at the book in front of him. “I don’t…” Sam shook his head - he’d heard all of Dean’s reasoning before, all of his tirades and frustrated drunken rants. Neither of them knew what had happened, apparently no one did, and Sam had given up hope. Maybe Dean was still clinging to it, but the younger Winchester knew the truth.

If Y/N didn’t turn up, she was most likely dead.

But they both needed closure. Dean had lost the girl he loved, Sam had lost his best friend. She’d gone missing on a regular case, a salt and burn; she up and vanished when she was supposed to be visiting witnesses. There was nothing to tie anyone to it - no sulphur, no blood, no cameras. Zip. Nothing. Nada.

She’d disappeared on the wind.

“I’m going to bed,” Sam said, standing up, not waiting for acknowledgement from his brother. Dean didn’t endeavour to give him anything either, remaining in his spot as Sam left the room, the sound of his bedroom door closing echoing through the halls.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he opened up the photo app, flicking through random photos of the two of them, seeing her eyes sparkling back at him. God, he missed her so much. She was always taking selfies, playing with Snapchat and putting the filters on him - he was ashamed to admit he thought the dog one was pretty funny.

Tears sprung into his eyes and he wiped them away angrily, slamming the phone, screen down, on the table. He wasn’t expecting it to ring at that precise moment.

He snatched it back up, answering without even checking who it was. “Hello?”

You hear that old cliche line all the time in novels, but Dean never thought he’d experience it. That single moment where you feel like your heart stops, the way it lurches into your mouth and you feel relief and terror all at the same time.

That was how he felt when he heard her voice say his name, a breathy whisper down the line, and months of worry and not knowing was wiped away in a tide of happiness at hearing her voice again.

“Y/N?”

“Dean,” she repeated, and she sounded so tired, but just the same as she always did. He didn’t even realise how much he’d missed her voice. 

“Where are you?” he asked, and he heard her sigh heavily on the other end of the phone.

“Somewhere in Missouri. A diner, Sue’s, I think. I… I don’t know the town.”

He frowned, sitting up straight. “What happened to you? It’s been months, and we couldn’t find you anywhere. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She didn’t answer for a few moments, and Dean started to worry. “You’re not -”

“I’m alone,” she whispered. “I woke up in some crappy motel off route 70. I don’t remember anything, except driving through Jacksonville to interview that couple and then… it’s just a blank.” She paused, and he could hear the background sounds of the diner she was at. “Can you… can you come get me?”

“Of course I can,” he replied instantly, nodding even though she couldn’t see him. “I’ll be there in a couple of hours. Stay put, and turn your GPS on.”

“This isn’t my phone,” she said, haltingly, and the line went quiet for a second before she returned. “I’m in Sue’s Diner, Marshall Junction.”

Dean wrote down the name quickly on the notepad Sam had left behind, before standing up. “I’ll be there soon, baby, I promise.” He wanted to tell her that he loved her, that he’d missed her, but he held back, squeezing his eyes shut as the line went dead.

*****

“Where do you think she’s been?” Sam asked, checking over the map as he sat in the passenger seat of the Impala. He looked a little disheveled from where Dean had woken him, but the instant his brother had told him about the call, he’d gotten up and they’d been on the road in ten minutes.

“She said she didn’t remember anything,” Dean replied, his eyes focused on the road. He was dog tired, but he wasn’t about to give up when Y/N was finally back, when he knew she was safe. All he needed was to have her in his arms.

Sam pulled a face, not liking that answer. “We should test her, just to make sure. It could be anyone.”

“I know it’s her.” Dean’s answer was forced through gritted teeth, and Sam didn’t like that either. His brother was more sensible than that, but right now, he was thinking with his heart instead of his head. “I just… I need to see her. With my own eyes. I’d know if anything was wrong. Plus, she has the tattoo, and -”

“Things like that can be removed, Dean,” Sam commented, earning a roll of the eyes from the elder man. “We gotta be careful. We don’t know where she’s been, who had her…”

“Can we just focus on the positive? The woman I love is alive, and not dead.”

Sam didn’t want to mention that she might be dead, and this might be a ruse. Dean was stubborn at the best of times, but he would wait to see what the situation was before acting on his instinct. Something about all of this seemed off; he didn’t know what. He didn’t speak again, allowing Dean to continue driving like a madman down the highway, dodging in and out of the sparse traffic in his urgency to get where he was going.

When the diner finally came into view, neon signs lit up in the early morning darkness, Sam could almost feel the relief rolling off of his brother. He pulled the car into the parking lot, opening the door before it had even rolled to a stop.

“Y/N!” Dean called, seeing her sat in a booth in the diner, looking down at the table. At the call of her name, she looked up, a smile breaking out onto her face, and she stood, running around the tables to the door, flinging it open just as Dean reached it. Launching into his arms, she clung to him tightly, sobbing into his coat. “I got you,” Dean muttered, holding her back just as tightly.

“Y/N,” Sam said, and she looked up at him with big, wet eyes. “You’re okay.” It was a statement, not a question, and she nodded, dragging her eyes to Dean slowly.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “I don’t… I don’t know what happened. I saw the paper, the date… it’s been months.” Dean shushed her, pushing hair back from her face. “I didn’t have my phone, just what I was wearing. I remembered your number -”

“It’s okay,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re fine, it’s okay.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Dean -” His brother ignored him, too caught up in Y/N. “Dean, I know it’s hard but we have to -”

“I’ll do it later,” Dean snapped, and Sam held his hands up. “You said you woke up at a motel?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, it was a little ways down the road, maybe a quarter mile. Apparently I have a room for the next two nights.”

“Did they say who booked you in?” Sam asked, and Y/N nodded.

“Yeah. Me.”

*****

It was easier than you thought to get Dean to trust you, even though he had no idea where you’d been, and clearly had no idea that you weren’t the person you used to be. Crowley’s orders lingered in the forefront of your mind, but at the same time, laying eyes on Dean Winchester had thrown you into turmoil. The part of you that they hadn’t destroyed remembered the times with him, remembered how sweet and loving he was.

You remembered how much you loved him.

“They said I checked in three days ago, but I don’t remember doing it. Used one of my aliases, used cash up front.” Sucking a breath, you squeezed your eyes shut, laying on the drama thick and heavy for their benefit. “All I know, is I woke up, fully clothed, on the bed, and I called you almost right away.”

Dean’s eyes were on you when you opened yours again, and you gave him a small weary smile. He was right back where he had been, so full of concern for your wellbeing that he was willing to overlook the tiniest flaw.

Sam, however, was not convinced, and you knew it. He would take the most work. “Do you still have your tattoo?” he asked, and you nodded, lifting up your shirt to show the delicate inking on your hip. It didn’t matter of course - this was still your body, you weren’t  _ possessed _ . So the tattoo was pointless.

Normally it took years to make a demon out of a human soul. But with the actual meatsuit to torture and the right  _ kind _ of pain, Crowley had figured it out in mere months. All to bring down the Winchesters.

Pity you had them all fooled.

Dean grinned, running his thumb over the tattoo and you shivered a little at his touch, recalling just how good he was with his fingers. You reined the feeling in; it wouldn’t do any good to spoil the display with your arousal now. “See, Sam, you’re worrying for nothing.”

“I just wanna make sure,” Sam replied, pulling a small silver switchblade from his pocket. “Anti-possession symbols don’t protect against shifters or werewolves.”

You blinked at him, then held out your forearm. The silver cut into your flesh, and you affected a pained expression, even though it didn’t hurt at all. Sam seemed satisfied, even when you dropped your arm and covered the cut with your hand to hide your accelerated healing.

“Can we stop this now?” Dean asked, impatiently, pulling you into his arms.

Sam frowned, pocketing the knife once more. “Yeah. I’m gonna do some digging. Check out the motel, see if there have been any omens… you two can…” He pulled a face and waved his hand. “Whatever. Why don’t you take her back to her room, Dean?”

The elder Winchester grinned, slipping his arm around your shoulders and you tucked yourself into him, suddenly missing the warmth that used to blossom in your chest whenever he showed you affection. “Sure. I’ll keep my cell on.”

There was a second of hesitation on Sam’s part as he walked away, heading into the diner, and Dean gestured to his car. You turned your eyes to the sleek black Impala, smiling at her. “I missed her too,” you whispered, resting your head against his shoulder. He chuckled, leading you over towards Baby, not letting go of you until the last possible moment.

“I bet she missed you too.”

The drive to the hotel was less than a couple of minutes, but the entire ride you were practically vibrating. Being a demon, being  _ yourself  _ as a demon was a hell of an experience - excuse the pun - and you didn’t miss the pain, the guilt, the sadness that you’d felt before in your life. Most of that was gone, leaving you with the baser needs. Anger, hate, arousal… 

Arousal was definitely playing on your mind now. All you could think was how to get Dean into bed without arousing suspicion. God, you couldn’t get the thought of his thick solid cock out of your mind, the way he’d moan when you closed your mouth around him…

“You hear me in there, sweetheart?” 

Shit, you’d drifted. Fixing a sweet smile to your face, the one that you knew Dean was butter for, you turned to him, nodding. “Sorry. I guess… this is all a little overwhelming,” you explained, keeping your voice quiet. “It feels like I’ve only been gone a couple days, not…  not months. And you’re here, saving me again.”

There was a faint blush on his cheeks as he turned his attention to parking the car in the motel lot. “You always save yourself, Y/N. I’m just along for the ride.”

“Is it stupid to say I missed you?” You leaned in a little closer for effect, seeing his eyes dart to your cleavage for a few seconds, and you knew you had him. Dean grinned widely, pulling you close to press a chaste kiss to your lips. The response you gave was eager, but he withdrew too soon, and you scowled at his back as he climbed from the car.

He walked around, opening your door and helping you out, even though you didn’t really need it. You kept to your charade, letting him be the gentleman, and walked by his side to your motel room door. Opening it, you slipped inside with him close behind you, before locking the door to the outside world.

You were going to get what you wanted, and Sam walking in wasn’t going to ruin the mood.

Dean was busy checking out the room, which was empty, as you didn’t exactly haul your belongings with you to hell and back. When he turned back to you, you immediately moved into his arms, burying your face in his chest.

“Whoa, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Not that I’m perfectly content with having you like this, we should probably check you out, make sure you’re not hurt or anything.”

You frowned against his shirt, before wiping your facial expression and looking up at him. “I’m not injured, Dean. I’m fine. I just… I missed you.”

“I know,” he replied, cupping your face with his hands. “I missed you too.”

Pushing up onto your tiptoes, you kissed him again, trying to deepen the kiss, feeling his resistance to you weaken. “Dean,” you purred, slipping your hands around his waist. The effect of your touch was swelling the front of his pants, but he obviously needed a little more.

“Is this a good idea?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

“Feels right,” you whispered, nuzzling your nose into his cheek. “I need you, Dean… please…” There was still hesitation in his movements, and you refrained from scowling in irritation, bringing out the big guns. “Unless… did you find someone else? I would understand, I mean, I could have been dead, I was gone and you -”

He shushed you with a kiss, covering your lips with his, sliding his tongue into your willing mouth, and you moaned deeply, your body curving against his. When he broke away, he was smiling, and you looked up at him with flushed cheeks and lust filled eyes. “There would never be anyone else,” he whispered, and you tried to ignore the flutter in your heart at that.

“Dean…” The mewl that left you was enough to have him hooking his hands under your thighs, hoisting you up against his waist, and your legs automatically curled around him as he pulled you in for another kiss. He moved towards the bed, almost falling with you wrapped around him, and you felt a jolt of thrill up your spine, letting your fingers claw at his clothing.

The coat came off first, followed by his shirt as he was tearing at your pants, dragging them down your legs until they and your shoes were on the floor. For a moment, you cursed his habit of wearing so many layers, until his chest was bare as you sucked in a breath at the remembrance of just how fucking hot Dean Winchester was.

“Missed me, huh?” he winked, cheekily, before your hands were around his neck, pulling him in close for a breathtaking kiss. His tongue responded to yours, swiping across the inside of your cheeks as he pulled the hem of your shirt up, breaking away to tug it off over your head, sending it to join the other items on the floor.

You took the opportunity to crawl backwards up the bed until you were across it, with Dean following you, kicking his boots and pants off, leaving him only in his boxer shorts. The generous tent in the front of the material made you salivate with anticipation, and Dean grinned wickedly as he stopped halfway up your body and dropped between your thighs. As his mouth descended on your clothed pussy, you whined loudly, arching up against him.

“Still so beautiful,” he muttered, the words echoing in your head with other moments he’d been tender and kind, and so fucking gentle it made the demon you were now want to puke. No, you needed more than this; you didn’t want lovemaking, you wanted to be fucked and fucked hard.

“Dean,” you keened, wiggling your hips, and Dean hooked his fingers in your panties, dragging them down your thighs, not stopping until the thin cotton was lying on the floor next to his discarded pants. “Please…”

He didn’t waste a second, using the tip of his tongue to trace a path along your folds, and you shuddered as fresh arousal made you slick for him. The sounds he made as he kept repeating the movement, circling your clit with his tongue, had you on edge and panting, and for a moment, you lost control, feeling your eyes go black.

Dean didn’t notice, and you kept your eyes shut, biting your bottom lip as you wrassled with your own self-restraint. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his mouth pressed flush against your overheated, sensitive skin. “Wanna feel you come.” One long finger eased its way between your pussy lips, and you couldn’t help the cry you gave, feeling the calloused pad of his digit rub against the front of your walls, making you clench and groan. “Come for me,” Dean groaned, using his tongue and teeth to attack your clit, and within seconds, you were shaking and writhing.

“Dean, Dean, fuck -” The words sounded harsh and bounced off the walls of the cheap motel room, but Dean didn’t seem to notice, lapping at your cunt to coax you through your orgasm, before withdrawing from you and crawling up the bed. He shed his boxers, pressing his hard length against your exposed pussy, holding himself up above you with his hands. 

You panted as you opened your eyes, regaining a little control, ensuring he wouldn’t guess your true nature. His cock felt hot and heavy against your body, and you wriggled again, needing to feel him pounding inside you.

He had other ideas.

“Missed you so much,” he whispered, leaning in to capture your mouth with his, and you moaned as he rolled his hips gently, using one hand to tug down the cups of your bra, letting your breasts tumble free. When he broke the kiss, he instantly turned his attention to your hardened nipples, sucking one into his mouth.

The sensation was intense, and you made a sickeningly pathetic noise as he continued to rut his cock against you. You needed him inside, wanted to feel the stretch of his cock inside you, the long, hot stretch that he always provided. The memories weren’t enough.

“Dean,” you whined, and he released your breast with a wet pop, looking up at you with eyes that held so much love and affection, that you began to doubt what you were doing.

He  _ needed _ to fuck you.

“I know,” he replied, smiling softly as he reached between your bodies, lining himself up before sinking home. You cried out, hooking your legs around his waist, digging your heels into his ass, but he was having none of it. He was slow and steady, releasing a deep groan as his hips came flush against your body, carefully holding his weight off of you.

You bucked, trying to encourage him to go fast, hard, to make you feel the bruising force of his cock slamming into your body. But Dean ignored the physical prompts, laying across you with his hands framing your face and the weight of his body held up with his elbows as he kept  _ staring  _ at you.

“I love you,” he whispered, “so much.”

Something thudded into your chest, and you couldn’t take your eyes away as he started to move, his strokes slow and purposeful, his cock hitting every single right spot inside you, just like it always did. The way he kept watching you, his fingers stroking your hair, his lips intermittently dipping to capture yours… it was too much.

Tears left your eyes as something in you swam back to the surface, and you wished so much that Hell hadn’t chewed you up and spit you out into this monstrosity. They’d taken everything from you, including Dean, and him making love to you like this, like he had done before, was too  _ intense _ and too much.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Dean asked, frowning and stopping his movement. “Am I hurting you?”

You shook your head furiously, hating everything about the place you were in. “I just…” A hiccup of a pause and you fixed your eyes on his. The truth was on the tip of your tongue, just out of your reach, and for a second, you almost crumbled. “I just missed you so much,” you lied, a shaky smile going with the smooth dishonesty.

“I missed you too,” he replied, his lips taking yours once more, and then he was thrusting again, giving you hard like you wanted, but slow, loving,  _ goddamn fucking tender _ and you clung to him, trying to hold back the renewed emotion making you feel like you’d die right there. “Not gonna last,” Dean groaned, his mouth close to your ear. “Been too long, sweetheart.”

A nod tugged your chin downwards, and Dean grunted, his strokes becoming a little more uneven, a little halted, and then you felt it, hot and sticky inside you, warmth spreading outwards.

For a few moments, he lay there kissing you, reluctant to part your joined bodies, but eventually, he drew away. You immediately rolled onto your side, feeling him snuggle up behind you and loop his arms around your waist to spoon you.

Black filled your eyes over and over as you cried silently, but Dean didn’t seem to notice, kissing the back of your neck as he repeated how much he’d missed you, and how glad he was you were here. How much he loved you. How important you were to him.

No, you weren’t going to do what Crowley wanted. But you weren’t going to stay with Dean, either. They would want to cure you, and now, recalling all that you did, and all that you were, you knew that being human again would only compound the misery and torture you’d endured to become like this in the first place.

Dean would heal. He’d move on.

He had to.

*****

“Hands up.”

Sam’s growled voice made you freeze on the spot as you shut the motel room door, and you turned slowly, seeing your former best friend stood on the motel veranda. “Sam,” you said, coolly, raising your hands. “Are you gonna use that?” You gestured to the raised gun.

“You’re a demon. You hid it well, but -”

“You put two and two together like a good little puppy,” you spat, grinning at him. “I must say, I was surprised Dean didn’t get it. He will, though.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “He better be alive in there.”

“He’s alive,” you replied, shrugging. “He’ll be broken for a little while, but he’ll heal. It’s important that he lives, because he’s the only one that can deal with Crowley.” Sam cocked his head to the side, keeping his gun trained on you. “Oh yeah, he’s the one that kidnapped me. Twisted me into this,” you waved a hand at your own body. “Gave me these.” The black overtook your eyes, and Sam recoiled in shock. It was hard to be confronted with the truth face on, even if you already knew it.

“Crowley?”

“Yeah. Wanted me to bring you down. But… I can’t quite shake the feelings I had for Dean. Or you. So, I’m giving Dean a little bit of closure instead.” You stretched your neck from side to side, rolling your shoulders. “I don’t need this meatsuit anymore. You can burn it, bury it, do what you want. Dean doesn’t know I’m a demon. No need for him to know. Tell him I was killed, and tell him Crowley did it. Whatever you want.”

The younger brother frowned at the plan, shaking his head a little. “Y/N, you can’t just -”

“I don’t want to be a demon,” you said, casually, although you could feel your humanity burning your throat and eyes. “I never wanted to be this. But you go through enough torture, and you give in. I’m making a choice. I’m gonna smoke out, leave you with whatever is left. And I’ll… well, I don’t know if demons can kill themselves, but I’m gonna try.”

“Y/N, we can cure you. We can -”

You smiled, feeling your eyes grow watery. It was probably an odd sight, you thought, seeing a demon with black eyes starting to cry. “No. No cures. I don’t want to deal with what they did to me - I couldn’t, not as human. Not with a soul. It would destroy me. Better it end this way.”

He was lowering the gun now, staring at you, his eyes shining with unshed emotion. “What the hell do I tell Dean?”

“I don’t care,” you lied. “I’m dead, whatever you tell him.”

“Y/N, I -”

A sigh left you, and you shook your head, dropping your arms to your sides. “You’re not gonna talk me out of this, Sam. But I promise, no matter what… you’ll be okay. You and Dean. You’ll never hear from me again. I’ll figure out how to get out of this mess, and I won’t endanger anyone else.”

Sam watched you, his mouth shutting and opening with unspoken thoughts, as though he didn’t know what to say. You gave him a smile, letting your eyes fade back to their normal color; in some way, you didn’t want his last memory of you to be as a demon, even though you were. 

“Goodbye, Sammy,” you whispered, before allowing your head to fall backwards as black smoke poured from your mouth. Without a soul, without anything powering your body, it collapsed to the floor, making a loud thud on the wooden planking. Whatever injuries you’d sustained would kill your shell, you’d known that, and you felt a light floating sensation as you left it, watching Sam rush forward to try and revive you.

It wasn’t any good. Wouldn’t do anyone any good.

You were dead.

Allowing the wind to whisk you away, you gave in, letting go of everything you’d known. It was freeing, a feeling you’d never known. You didn’t need anything, didn’t want anything.

You were nothing, and that was all you wanted to be.


End file.
